


Punishments and Rewards

by wickedrum



Category: Heroes (TV), Sylaire - Fandom
Genre: Angst, F/M, Romance, Sexual Content, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-24
Updated: 2015-05-24
Packaged: 2018-04-01 01:27:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4000723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wickedrum/pseuds/wickedrum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What would happen if Claire could do anything she wanted to with Sylar? Dark companion piece to my Rock if you wish, standalone if you don't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Punishments and Rewards

**Author's Note:**

> I was trying to make Rock violence free and more teenager friendly, therefore these bits could not fit in!

Disclaimers: I don't own any supernatural powers or anything else to do with Heroes.   
Rating: pretty heavy. Violence, sex and the like.   
Pairing: I'm writing it, so it's Sylaire. 

Chapter 1: Saturation Point

Their eyes met in a nervous look and Sylar was not one bit more relaxed, than Claire. Ever since they have arrived into the mountains and rented two spacious rooms in the chalet, they both knew and feared it would come to this. The room overlooking the cable car wires was supposed to be for the men, Peter and Sylar, and the one adjacent, with a better view of the solemn and respectable slopes of the largely untouched Carpathian peeks was going to be used by Emma and Claire.

Of course the doctor-paramedic couple had no reason to cling to any pretence of false morality and sooner, rather than later, the ex cheerleader and the ex killer found themselves on an unheated, freezing corridor in front of a locked door late at night. Sylar certainly had a key to enter, but given the way those two lovers gazed into each other's eyes, and those stolen, hungry kisses, it was very unlikely Peter would appreciate his roommate's presence and missing out on a romantic night with his girlfriend.

So there they were, former enemies, standing silently, sharing a look of uncertainly and questions, a wordless tug of war, where each was trying to figure out which one of them was more uncomfortable with the prospect of the most feasible option, that they would spend the night in each other's company.

Not having the luxury of being able to touch her, unless he used some see through excuse, Sylar had to wonder what he saw in her eyes. In the dim light he could barely see the twinkle of her green iris, so was he right when he suspected that her apprehensive awareness of what she was getting herself into was overpowered by a certain defiance, a sense of adventure and excitement? At no moment in time did Sylar think she was going to get a flash of the old Claire who was going to run away.

Instead, the young woman smiled. Not at him, more like to herself. It was that sexy, assured cheerleader grin that could be so annoying to people with not much self confidence.  
Yes, it was instantly perfectly clear. Claire had welcomed the opportunity. She was going to have her way with her boogeyman, strip him of his status as such and chastise him with all her heart's desire.

The little blond fished her own keys to her own room out from her bag, opened the door to step in and left the entrance wide open. Sylar followed her in with a devotion one might call fanatical. But if he was to hope for an ever after with her, a settling of scores had to happen next.

Hands in his pockets, a little bit on the insecure side, he ambled in tow slowly, but willingly to find that Claire had sat down on the side of her bed, turned away from him and she seemed to be busy with sorting out the contents of her handbag without minding to take a look into his direction. Her ignorance was only half conscious, she was not quite ready to deal with him just yet.

For a while, Sylar was unsure what he was meant to do, so he seated himself on the other bed as well and waited. His ability packed mind started working on the answer as if by himself though, and his by now well advanced telekinesis from afar has started to move and fly a number of objects into the room without a sound.

Claire had finally managed to use her hankies to rub the accidental perfume spillage off the rest of the contents of her bag skilfully, as it was not the first time she had managed to have the same cologne accident. When she turned to take her extra cardigan off as the room had been heated even in their absence and felt snug and cosy, she was faced with an unexpected sight.

Little miss miracle grow was not fazed by many things, but her movements froze and she became vaguely aware of her mouth opening for a silent gasp as she barely managed not to step on the arsenal of items on the carpet before her. Sylar had laid down on his back onto Emma's bed, exposing a bare chest, while a multitude of weapons were laid out at Claire's feet, from small arms to knives and spears, even a club, a light machine gun and a shard of glass that he knew she could utilize well from previous experience.

"I thought you wanted to punish the bogeyman personally. I'm simply saving you the trouble of having to hunt me down," Sylar shrugged as way of explanation.

"Of course," Claire rolled her eyes, "and you're just gonna lie there and let me."

"Well, that is the purpose. Maybe that is the only way for you to trust me again, evidence that I know I deserve your anger."

She looked at him in astonishment, "and you think you could ever pay for the pain you caused me?"

"Claire. You know you want to punish me. You should punish me then. Whether it's going to be  
harsh enough or not, that is beside the point. You need it. I need it. I need you to punish me."

"Hm! So that is what all this is about? Your needs, your redemption, means for you to feel better?" Her breathing became more rapid and her eyes misted over a little in exasperation as she grabbed a thick, curved dagger on impulse at his brazenness to suppose he could make up for killing her birth parents. "See how this makes you feel better!" She leaped over and buried the blade into his belly with a hideous squelch.

She was as startled as him when the dagger struck true, not just by the fact that she had actually carried through, but by how easy it was. Her momentum buried the blade into his body nearly to the hilt.

Sylar hissed at first, trying to hold the scream in, but then shrieked in pain, a disturbing, stabbing noise, so surprisingly human and victimlike that the quite inexperienced attacker panicked and held onto the dagger to try to free it, working it back and forth.

Apparently, sticking the weapon into him was easier, than taking it out and she caused further agony instead of allowing him some chance of healing. Emma's covers were soaking in blood and Claire felt a pang of guilt at ruining them. The little blond heaved upwards, feeling the relatively wide blade rip through soft tissue, organs and skin. Instantaneously, she realized there was something to be said about not feeling pain when injured. She finally managed to yank the weapon free and a fair amount of red liquid was flowing out his mouth as a result.

She drew in a relieved breath and watched idly as his wound started to close from the inside out and a pink, babyish coloured skin appeared. No, that wasn't right. It was not just that the colour did not suit the killer, but it reminded her how it was a stolen ability. Maybe he was right. Did he not deprive her of her illusions? A normal way of growing up? Having a relationship with her birth parents or father? A relaxed existence? Everything that was once important for her? And put it like that, she should not keep back from punishing him only because he offered the chance for her to do so himself.

And before he could fully recover and find his voice, she stuck the knife into his right thigh, pushing once again as far as she could, letting him know that the bloodletting was far from over. She was more calculated this time, she choose to target dense flesh that would hurt, but would not impede his ability to answer questions or indeed miss any pain by passing out or dying. She put quite a lot of effort into it and only stopped when the tip of the blade struck something solid, presumably bone.

"Where is your weak spot at the moment?" She leaned down to whisper into his ears. Of course he could've kept relocating it if he could concentrate somewhat, but if he told her and it was true, that would've been a real opening of trusting relations. Sylar blinked at length and was she correct when she thought he blushed a little, even with the bloodloss?

The ability collector tried to get a grip over his shape shifting ability. It wasn't one he liked to use and therefore he was out of practice. He finally looked down and waved a hand in the general direction of his middle as he had to reveal the secret, momentarily not being able to move his weak point. "I was assuming nobody would really try to run through me with anything in the..." He panted, "you know..." He looked tormented, although not for the physical reasons one might think.

Claire's eyes widened as she processed the realization. She smiled at first and a small, uncharacteristical titter followed, "you don't mean your balls?"

Sylar shook his head, "killing me would only work if somebody'd cut my stick off."

The girl looked at him for a while, as if to say, are you serious, then started laughing hysterically with sheer amusement at the weirdness of it all. A prime example of how their whole lives was a lunacy given their abilities, she thought.

The blade cut through him, surprising him once more even though the change of tone and pace of her laugh should've alerted him to her fury, more directed towards her own freakshow existence, than him when she violently stabbed him in between his ribs, under his ribs, more shallow this time so that she could pull the blade out easily and stab him again and again and again.

Tears welled up in his eyes from the pain and the powerlessness to do anything against the woman. He would not dare, he couldn't rebel against what was his outstanding punishment. Mercy would not solve their relationship. He would've preferred if she used the machine gun right enough and made him die quicker.

She cried as well plunging the dagger into his chest again and again, her silent weeping turning into a flood when finally she shed those well needed and overdue tears over her losses that she attributed to Sylar. She sobbed and howled and cried out thrusting the weapon into his heart, not minding it was the forth time and he was well overkilled, unconscious at best and getting cold from bloodloss and the inability to regenerate as consequent damage happened too soon.

Her cuts got shallower though as her emotions got the better of her and her body cramped up with their sheer force. She pulled back and into herself, dagger dropping to the floor and rolling over on the carpet, making another bloody mess. It brought her back to reality. What would Emma think of the state of the room and what she had done? What would Peter think in fact. She sniffed and dabbed her tears with her palms, noting that her make up was in a similar state to the room and that she must've just covered her face with blood as well from her hands. His blood.

When she finally stopped crying a few minutes later, she realized how satisfied she actually felt. Those killed could not be resurrected, so why did she feel so good? But one thing for sure, she needed that, all of it.

Almost impatiently, she watched him start to heal with a frown. Was it only because she was feeling a little guilty and wanted the wounds inflicted by her to disappear, or was it really that his regeneration was slower than hers?

He groaned as he came to, still fuzzily disorientated against the pain of the knitting together tissue and skin. His vision filled with the blond leaning over him, tousled, messy and sticky, with red eyes from crying, her clothes stained. Yet she appeared composed. She stared right into his clearing eyes and when she thought him conscious enough, she mumbled something. She must've misjudged it though, as his head was too heavy still for his ears to distinguish the roaring in them from articulated words.

"Go on, punish me more," he encouraged her. He could take it and was ok with it, if that was what she was enquiring, even if his voice sounded like a whimper.

Claire took a quick, shuddering breath. Kicking his ass had been a very fulfilling occupation. She was almost loosing her self-control again at the bold encouragement. The young woman had always thought of herself as a person in her right mind, with good, as well as common sense and a non-judgemental attitude. She had her revenge, as it was, the moment had passed, her emotions had calmed and there was no valid reason for her to continue, unless she'd have to accept a view of herself as cruel.

Instead, she sniffed, cleared her throat and mind to repeat her heartfelt "thank you for that." that he did not hear. "The more I think about it, the more that was necessary to clear the air between us."

"So..." He sat up slowly, gingerly, straightening carefully so as not to disturb his continuously healing wounds, but noted with some pleasure that although there still was some straining and twinges, everything was working and he was no longer bleeding. He looked down on himself, just to check, running a hand along his front. His clothes were completely ruined, with blood stains and gashes, both his trousers and his shirt, even though he had previously unbuttoned it. Through the holes, you could see new, pink skin forming, looking so unnatural against his pale complexion. "Are you finished punishing me?"

"Temporarily," Claire admitted.

"Promise me to take it out on me whenever you feel like it, rather than wait till you wanna kill me or go gung ho again?" He asked quietly, his breathing still laboured.

"Oh, anytime," she replied off handedly as if it would've been a minute matter. In fact, she was distracted by watching him closely. "Sylar, are you all right? I thought you have recovered from the extreme exhaustion thing caused by powers overuse. You don't seem to be healing fast enough."

He looked up, trying to work though the misty haze in front of him to look into her eyes. What did that expression mean? She couldn't be worried about him? Care for his wellbeing? No. Well, maybe? Once again, he felt the need to touch her, not only because he always wanted to, but because it would've given him insight into her feelings and desires through Lydia's gift. "I'm...I'm fine. I just don't like to use certain abilities around you."

"How very considerate of you," Claire rolled her eyes with sarcasm, "I'm a tough girl, remember?"

"Interesting how no matter how hard you try, you can never please some people," Sylar replied half seriously. It has certainly been the life story of Gabriel, never being able to be good enough.

Claire however, never knew Gabriel Gray and therefore attributed the comment as nothing more, than banter, "can we miss out the hostility just for once and cut right to the chase?" Reaching a hand up to pull his head towards her a little, she swiftly kissed him, pressing her mouth against his with a crashing force of nature, taking, pulling, sucking his lips into hers.

It had been a rather innocent clumsiness that her tongue probed his mouth with, but Sylar did not notice. He was in shock from her kiss, not to mention his lack of many different girlfriends that left him passionate, but inexperienced. His taste buds vaguely registered the tang of blood, his own blood that had splattered onto her lips and conveyed onto his through wrestling tongues.

Although her actions had caught him off guard, he was soon trading wet, passionate kisses, sensing the surge of heat that passed between them and enveloped them, suggesting they shared a lot more than an abiding ability. Feeling her finally starting to pull away, his lips reached out and touched hers one more time, a shy kiss brushing gently across her mouth with a gentleness she would've never thought him capable of. "You play rough, you know that?"

Claire slid close, tangling her legs with his, pulling into his strong, manly arms. Nothing could protect her from getting close to him.

Tbc

Chapter 2: Mistress

"Have you thought of any other ways of punishing me?" Sylar asked teasingly, stretched out beside his new roommate. His masterful hands caressed her naked back lightly and stroked her hair softly with a tender lover's touch, making her feel treasured and lulled into the afterglow of their delicate, but passionate love making. She was so beautiful and lovable, inside out and her noble, determined strength of mind could put him to shame any day. He will not disappoint her, or himself however, will cage his inborn ability, along with his incredible desire to claim her, confirm her as his. He knew he couldn't rush her into anything as important as that.

He had noticed her momentary hesitation to answer, but wasn't sure if it was a good or a bad thing. Perhaps one day she will decide he had paid for his sins, although it would be silly to think it would come this soon. Hopefully she was not fed up with her domination game yet. Instinctively pulling her closer to him, he was about to use Lydia's ability to find out the answer to his questions when he looked down to realize that whatever she was too deep in thought thinking of she did by daydreaming in his cock's direction.

Her hands moved to caress places she became very accustomed with down in the forest of his body hair. It did not take long to wake his still lingering sensations and turn them into invigorating desire. She did not do much else, than touch and rub, yet the fact that it was her doing things to him made him feel so vibrant that there were no words to put it into. He could not let her know how much he depended on her though, he had to have that much dignity left.

He couldn't smother a groan in time nonetheless as the young woman's fingers tightened around his cock to push it roughly and suddenly against his stomach. Sharp nails scratched along the underside and she climbed over him to bounce down on his belly with all her little, but sudden weight. Air was forced out his lungs and he winced painfully, trying to breathe.

"You've asked for punishment, haven't you?" Claire reminded him. She had that look, ever prettier when intoxicated by power, the one where he ended up all sore and bleeding and not mind it one bit. She had acquired predatory confidence so well and so quickly as if it would've belonged to her in the first place. He looked up at her with anticipation of the pain, wondering what she had in store for him now.

"So does that make you all hot and bothered? Confusing pleasure with pain, are we?" Claire noticed his cock move a little despite her efforts to keep the little mister trapped. It seemed like it had a mind of its own as it grew stiff and hard and ready to fill her.

It also gained his attention for the moment as it was throbbing, captive, so much it hurt him. A good kind of pain, that brought them closer, vibrations adding to the pleasure, "oh, yes, mistress," he answered eagerly, "you're wonderfully desirable this morning, mistress."

"Thank you, baby. Behave and you can eat me later as a treat," the Bennet girl teased, licking her lips. While the blond was absolutely sure now that Sylar did not eat brains, nor other body parts, she also knew how stimulating his wavy tongue was.

"I'd like that," he choked out, feeling her pussy hot and wet against his lower abdomen.

"How badly is it you want me really?" She leaned closer, her hot breath moving his chest hair softly, sending shivers through his uncovered body. She wanted to hear the confirmation that he was powerless and helpless, that he was a fiend that only responded to her persona, tamed to please his master. But he gave her no such vocal satisfaction. Instead, he raised his arm with the truth revealing tattoo of her face on it, now finer in size than it has ever been. His destiny was Claire, big time.

Indestructible girl smiled sweetly, her eyes shining a deep green emerald from up close. They seemed filled with unruliness before she bit into his bottom lip firmly, as if she would've wanted to rip it off, "you didn't answer me properly yet."

The bogeyman whimpered softly at the sharp, painfully pleasurable sensation, "yes, mistress." He gave his lips a lick over just to make sure that he was regenerating as he should be.

Claire let out a noise reminiscent of purring. She loved it when his eyes got so glassy and unfocussed from pain and yearning. He was breathtakingly sexy when appearing vulnerable. Her tongue leading the way as she slid it out between her lips, the Barbie girl reached his smooth right ear and bit into it too, punishing the bad man further, like he deserved.

Damage was minimal comparing to what he had endured at one or another time in his life, including what she had already inflicted upon him, he could've taken it motionless and not even flinching, but he knew she liked the show and he went with the momentary discomfort and hissed.

Their relative position shifted slightly as he writhed and his warm, hard cock slipped inside her. Sylar froze. He wasn't supposed to do anything his mistress did not command him to. "I'm sorry, mistress..." He started, but the gorgeous young woman on top of him chuckled, an energetic, invigorating sound.

"Punishments later," Claire breathed, slow and low, wriggling herself to accommodate him inside herself. She looked down at him with an expression that told she knew he was hers to do as she pleased, "reward now." Lowering herself, she nipped at his over kissed, red, swollen lips encouragingly, every bit of her throbbing with the same desire as her moist pussy. She jerked her hips forward repeatedly at the same time, assuring he knew exactly what she wanted.

A flicker of bewilderment passed through his face, "did you forget your own game?" The pressure on top of him was maddeningly good, penetration deep, her full, rounded breasts bouncing against his chest. Their connection was so intense that regardless of their earlier lovemaking, he had to withstand the urge not to cum at once. He met her sensual motion with thrusts and twists, unerring in providing just the right pressure at just the right point as he used Lydia's gift to read her exact, momentary needs. His telekinesis tugged her up and down slightly as his hips arched up, leaving his hands free to work her breasts and vaginal lips.

She had a wide grin on as she breathed, "just like that..."

The End.


End file.
